


Focus on me

by Lalinka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalinka/pseuds/Lalinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was kidnapped on a hunt, and even though Dean managed to save him, there's something very wrong with Sam. Lucifer keeps him away from reality and Dean has to figure out what happened, and how to save his brother, before he loses him to insanity. But how to fight something, that inside Sam's head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus on me

**Author's Note:**

> So, my dear friend Tracey had birthday recently and this was her gift request: Something with hurt Sammy. Maybe with Hallucifer? And lots of Wincest yummieness and angst. Oh and maybe a hunt. So I tried my best. Happy birthday, hun <3

Sam woke up to a pounding headache and even though he was sure his eyes were open, he couldn't see a damn thing. He tried to move, but he was tied to a chair. And not just with a rope, but with a chain. _What the hell?_

“Oh, Hell, that’s right,” Lucifer chimed somewhere next to him, but Sam ignored him. He’d been ignoring him for the past few months.

There was a snap of fingers and the light went on. Sam had to blink a few times to adjust and then he noticed a female figure sitting right across from him, studying him, with an evil grin on her face.

“I'm glad to see you awake,” she said in a sing-song voice, as she stood up from her chair. “Means the fun can begin,” she bent down and put her face just a few inches from Sam’s. When she blinked, her eyes went from chocolate brown to pitch black without any white whatsoever.

“Are you sure, you’re not back in Hell, Sammy?” Lucifer taunted. “We even have a demon here.”

“Where am I?” Sam squirmed in his chair, refusing Lucifer to get to him.

“Somewhere safe,” she smiled at him sweetly.

Then she slanted her mouth over his and squeezed his jaw hard to force him to open for her. When she finally pulled away, Sam thought he was going to be sick.

“Mhmm,” she hummed appraisingly. “I understand, why Dean decided to go for it. You do know, you’re just another warm, willing body to him, right?”

Sam winced. Trust the demons to always go for his and his brother’s relationship.

“Or is it okay with you, if he still goes off to fuck a nameless girl from time to time?”

“I'm starting to like her,” Lucifer said and sat down on the chair, where the demon used to sit, to enjoy the show.

“Do you remember this one?” she asked Sam, pointing at her meatsuit.

Sam narrowed his eyes and looked at her properly. It was a young girl, about twenty years old, with dark, almost black hair, that were spilling over her shoulders. He skin was really pale. There was a piercing in her nose. Her lips were a little too thin and coloured with a bright red lip-gloss.

“The Diner we went to, yesterday,” Lucifer whispered.

Sam stopped looking at the details of her face and focused on the face itself. There was something familiar about her.

_“Wow, she looks like Snow white_ , he heard Dean’s voice as a distant memory and suddenly, he remembered. She had waited their table yesterday.

“She definitely remembers Dean,” the demon winked. “You know, when you were doing the research in the library, yesterday? Well, Dean didn't exactly go straight to the crime scene to investigate,” she kept talking, as she walked around Sam and then sat on his lap and purred into his ear. “You know, the thing with the fingers, you love so much? When Dean pushes two fingers inside you and twists them Just. Like. That? ” she mimicked the movements against the skin on Sam’s chest. “Turns out the girls like it, too,” she whispered into his ear.

“I'm _really_ starting to like her,” Lucifer laughed.

Sam clenched his fists. She was lying. She was a demon; they always lie. She’d just dug out a piece of information out of his head and used it against him. And Sam can’t let her get under his skin. Dean is going to find him, sooner or later.

“Oh, really, this is just too good,” she threw her head back, laughing. “You really believe he loves you. I've heard that little Dean picked up some useful skills, when he was down there with us, _because of you_ ,” she pointed at his chest. “But I didn't think he had acting lessons, too.”

Sam reminded himself not to listen to her, but it was hard, when Lucifer kept shouting “I told you so!” and “She’s got a point!”

“By the way, I know about the little friend of yours, that you keep carrying around in your head,” she stood up again. “I can’t see him, obviously, but I strongly recommend you listen to him. He was right, when he’d told you, that Dean would have been happier if you hadn't come back from the Cage,” she sneered.

“That’s not true,” Sam hissed between gritted teeth.

“Isn't it, though? Think about it. He had Lisa. He had Ben. He had a life, a normal life, the kind of life he’d always deserved, but couldn't have because of your dad and because of you. And then you came back. And everything he’d built, it was gone. And now he’s stuck saving your sorry ass again. Why do you think that makes him happy?”

“You can talk all you want,” Sam held her gaze. “But I'm not listening. Nothing you can say will turn me against my brother. Nothing.”

“That’s what you think I'm after?” she laughed. “Oh, Sammy, your glory days as a Boy King are long gone. Nobody wants you anymore. Heaven, Hell, Earth, and least of all, Dean.”

Sam tried to breathe through it, not acknowledging her anymore.

“Don’t be like that, buddy,” Lucifer pouted. “Let’s hear what she has to say, I'm really intrigued.”

“Think about it, Sam. You ruined his life. You killed his mother. Your father only ever cared about him enough, so that he would protect you. After everything he’d sacrificed for you, you left. You went to live the life he’d always craved, but could never have. Left with the father, that never loved him. And don’t even get me started on the things you've done to him ever since you got back on the road together.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, ignoring Lucifer’s screams that she was right. “You know I won’t listen to you.”

“Well if you won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to this,” she said as she pressed three of her fingers against Sam’s forehead. A sharp pain stabbed through his brain and then everything went black.

_When the darkness dissolved, he was in a motel room. There was a commotion in the bedroom and then a man cradling a little boy in his arms ran out. It was their father. And the boy must have been Sam, because another one, Sam recognized him as Dean, was peeking out of the bedroom door. Dean couldn't have been more than eight._

_“I asked you to do one thing, one thing, Dean!” John yelled at his older son, who was watching him with fearful eyes. “Don’t let your brother out of your sight. Was that too hard for you? Tell me, what was so important, that you had to leave him unprotected?”_

_“D-dad, I-,” Dean was visibly trembling. Sam figured, that this must be what happened, after their dad fought off the Sthriga. “It’s been days, I just wanted to-,”_

_“You don’t even have a valid excuse, do you?” John yelled angrily. “I'm going after that thing. And I'm taking Sam with me, because I can’t trust you with him anymore.”_

_Dean stood shock-still like he was just slapped in the face._

_“You stay here. And Don’t. Leave. The room. You think you can handle it this time?” he turned around to pierce Dean with one angry look._

_Dean nodded shakily, without saying another word. When the door behind the other two Winchesters closed, he folded himself into a chair and just stared into space for good ten minutes. Then he glanced on a clock on the wall and got up. He washed the dishes, cleaned the whole place, took apart each gun and polished every part, before putting it back together. Then he sharpened the knives and boiled himself some water for a cup of tea._

_Sam knew he was just doing this to kill time, because he kept glancing at the clock anxiously. He tried to speak up, to let Dean know he was there, but he couldn't. All he could do, was watch._

_Dean relented, eventually, and picked up a phone. Sam recognized the spare cell phone dad used to leave with them, when he was off on a hunt, until they were old enough to go with him._

_His brother chewed on his bottom lip and then put the phone aside. He lasted for about a minute, before he picked the phone again and dialled. He paced around the room, until it was clear, that the other side wasn't going to pick it up._

_“Hey dad, it’s Dean,” he said finally and leaned against a nearest wall for support.”I, uh, I just wanted to ask you, um,” he said, running his free hand through his hair. “If you’re gonna be home soon? You know, I could make you dinner, or something...” Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but his lower lip was trembling. “D-daddy,” he whispered and almost choked on a sob. “Please, p-please, don’t leave me here!” Tears started running down Dean’s cheeks and Sam’s heart was breaking for his brother. “I’ll do better, I promise, I will never ever disobey a direct order again, I swear! Just g-give me another, chance, please,” he finished brokenly and then just cried for a moment._

_Sam screamed, he wanted out of this memory, if he couldn't make it better, then he didn't want to be here. It wasn't even_ his _memory to begin with._

_Then he heard Dean clear his throat and continue in much firmer voice._

_“Whoa, I'm sorry about that,” he faked a laugh, even though there were still tears in his eyes. “I just, uh, be safe. And take the bitch down. I’ll be here. Yeah,” and with that he cancelled the call._

_Then he started crying earnestly as slid down the wall. Sam’s heart was shattered in million pieces at the sight._

_But then Dean raised his head, his face a mask of anger, and he threw the phone away._

_“Fuck you, Sam!” his brother yelled to the empty room, as the phone fell on their couch. “I hate you for ruining my life! I wish you’d just died and left me alone!” he screamed hysterically._

_Sam felt the blood run cold in his veins._

_“Hell, I wish you had never been born,” Dean spat out, before he covered his face with his hands._

_Sam felt himself being drawn back, and Dean, with the whole room, were disappearing in the distance, until there was nothing but darkness again._

When Sam opened his eyes, his heart was beating fast. There were tears on his cheeks, but he was feeling numb.

“So? Did you like, what you saw?” the demon asked him.

“I don’t believe you,” Sam said weakly.

“You really should listen to the lady; she’s trying to show you the truth,” Lucifer said mock angrily.

“Shut up!” Sam yelled at him. A little he knew, that he’d just opened a door for Lucifer to torture him in ways, he didn't even thought possible.

When he heard a clinking noise, he turned around his head to see, what the demon was up to. His eyes widened at the collection of torturing instruments of all kinds. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain.

“Oh, darling,” the demon laughed softly. “These aren't for you. They are for your brother. If you don’t believe what I tell you, or what I show you, I'm going to get him to tell you the truth, personally."

“Don’t you dare,” Sam spat out, tugging at the chains on his wrists and ankles, even though it was pointless. “Do whatever you want, kill me, if you have to, but leave my brother out of this!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighed as though she was talking to a little boy. “You don’t get it, do you? You were on a hunt. You wanted to kill me. And I don’t like life-threats. So I'm going to get rid of you. But first,” she circled his chair from behind to front, slowly. “I'm going to take away everything you love. You’re going to be _begging_ me to kill you, when I'm done with you. So, let’s get this party,” she said as she pressed three fingers on Sam’s forehead again. “Started.”

And with that, Sam’s world went black one more time.

-xXx- 

When Dean came back to their motel room that afternoon, only to find it empty, he panicked only slightly. When Sam wasn't answering his phone, he was panicking a lot. But the real panic attack came, when he tracked Sam’s phone down, and found it by a small bookstore, in a dumpster. Covered in sulphur.

“Cas!!” he shouted frantically, not caring if anyone heard him.

Castiel appeared by his side almost immediately.

“Dean?”

“Sam,” Dean pointed at his brother’s cell phone. “The demon, she took him!”

Normally, he wouldn't be this freaked out, but this bitch, she was powerful. And mean. And Sam wasn't really at his best lately, so Dean was worried, that he might not protect himself. Besides, Dean was supposed to be there to protect him.

Castiel put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Okay, we’ll find him. Let’s go back to your motel to come up with a plan,” he said and transported them both back into Sam and Dean’s motel room.

“Can you find him?” Dean asked Sam. “You know, use your mojo, feel him somehow?”

“You know I can’t find either of you anymore, since I put the protection carvings on your ribs,” Castiel sighed sadly.

“Okay,” Dean sat down on a chair heavily, trying to get his racing mind under control and focus on finding his little brother. “Okay,” he said again. “She has to keep him somewhere, right? So we split, and search. I’ll go for the secluded buildings and areas. You’re faster and sneakier, so you try the basements and warehouses in town, okay? Call me, if you get anything.”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded. “And Dean,” he said, before he disappeared. “We’ll find him.”

Dean nodded, but Castiel wasn't there to see it. He quickly grabbed his keys and ran to the Impala.

Hours of searching every construction site, every cabin, or simply field were fruitless. Dean just finished searching the last one on his list, frustrated, because he couldn't find anything, when he heard the soft flutter of wings, indicating, that Castiel was there.

“Tell me you've got something,” he pleaded.

“Sorry, Dean,” Castiel admitted sadly. “I don’t think he’s even in this town.”

“What?” Dean exclaimed.

“I’ll try to track down the demon, but I can’t do it from here. I have to go up,” he nodded towards the sky. “You go back to the motel and try to get some sleep. I’ll come, when I've found something.”

“No, I'm going to go check-,” Dean tried to argue, but the push of Castiel's fingers sent him back to the motel.

He took a large swing from his bottle of Jack.

“Just please, Sammy, be all right,” he whispered to no one.

After too long, agonizing hours, Castiel finally emerged. Dean was on his feet immediately.

“So?” he demanded.

“I managed to track the demon, until I couldn't anymore,” Castiel said.

“Damn you, Cas, this ain't the right time for your puzzles. Where is he?”

“I'm not sure, Sam’s there, but the place is so heavily guarded against angels, that it’s my best guess. I take you to the edge of it, but I can’t go with you,” Castiel said and transferred them a hundred yards from an old, abandoned building, in the middle of dessert, God knows where.

“There,” Castiel pointed at the building. “Be careful,” he added.

Dean nodded and smiled sadly at the angel. “Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it, really.”

“Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for, right?” Castiel said before disappearing again.

Dean took out Ruby’s knife and ran inside the building as quietly, but quickly, as he could.

Whatever the building was supposed to be, they never finished building it and it seriously threatened to fall down any day now. But Dean couldn't care less about that, he had to find Sam, and he had to save him.

Carefully, he moved around, trying to hear his brother, the demon, anything. He heard a shuffling noise behind him, but before he could spin around to dodge a potential blow, something hit him hard in the back of his head.

-xXx- 

Sam woke up from another of Dean’s memory about the day Sam left for Stanford. He could still hear his brother’s voice yelling how much he hated him, as he punched the bag in a local gym with everything he got, imagining it was Sam, instead.

He had to blink a few times to see past his tears, but when he recognized the figure sitting in front of him; his mouth fell open in horror.

It was Dean.

He was chained the same way Sam was and he was unconscious.

“D-Dean?” Sam asked tentatively.

“Get up, sunshine,” the demon laughed, as she threw a bucket of water at Dean’s face.

Sam watched his brother spit and curse, until he realized where they were.

“Sammy? Are you okay?” Dean asked.

“I'm fine, what are you doing here?”

“Saving you, what did you think?” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, well good job on that,” Sam said automatically, but regretted his words immediately, when he saw the smirk disappear from Dean’s face. “Dean, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-,”

“Yeah, save it,” Dean cut him off harshly.

Sam just bowed his head.

“Deany-boy,” the demon neared his brother with a knife in her hand. “I've been telling Sammy here for hours, that all he ever was for you; was a job your dad gave you. But he doesn't seem to listen to me. I've already shown him, how you really feel about him. All the hatred. It’s not healthy, to keep things like that bottled up,” she chimed and stood right next to Dean. “So how about you told him yourself?”

As she was talking, Dean kept eyeing Sam as if he was trying to read from his face, whether what she was saying was true or not. His gaze was hard and cold, not a trace of concern, or even affection, and Sam had to avert his eyes.

“How about you fuck yourself?” Dean then answered.

“Wrong answer,” she said, still with the sickly sweet voice, as she stabbed the knife in Dean’s side.

“No!” Sam shouted, trying to break free from his chains by sheer power of will, but the chains wouldn't move. “No, Dean!”

His brother’s head was thrown back in an agonizing scream, as the demon carved the knife up his side. Then she pulled the knife out, letting Dean slump in his chair, blood running out of him.

“Dean, look at me!” Sam cried.

The green eyes opened with obvious effort and focused on him.

“I'm dying,” he stated.

Sam shook his head in denial, because Dean couldn't die. It was Sam, who deserved to die, not Dean.

“Because of you, again,” Dean chuckled, baring his bloodied teeth. “If your mission was to screw my life as badly as humanly possible,” he glared at Sam with so much hatred, that Sam actually pressed his back against his chair, trying to be as far away from it as possible. “Then congratulations, Sammy, mission accomplished.”

All Sam’s walls broke down. It was true. Dean hated him. He was the reason of everything bad ever happening to his brother. Sam just wanted to die. He wanted to die, instead of his brother, freeing him from his meaningless existence.

Dean started coughing blood, but kept on talking.

“I bet, dad’s up there waiting for me. He’s gonna pat my back and say ‘Good work, soldier, dying for your brother.’ And I'm finally going to look him in the eye and say ‘He was supposed to be _your_ responsibility, not mine. So you’re welcome for doing _your_ job.”

His laughter was interrupted by a nasty cough.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he stated. “But I'm looking at the bright side. You know, what the bright side of _this_ ” he pointed at the blood on his shirt “is? I won’t have to touch you. Ever. Again.”

Sam flinched. He was so selfish, and so blind, all this time. Dean had never said, he wanted their relationship to become physical. It was Sam. Sam, who first said, he was in love. Sam, who made the first move. He should have known, that Dean was just doing his job, just like he was all his life.

“You see,” he heard the demon speaking from behind him. “Demons usually lie. But sometimes,” she pressed her lips against his ear. “Sometimes they tell the truth.”

Then she gasped and Sam heard something heavy hit the floor. He raised his eyes to see what happened, but he was blinded by the tears, that kept coming, even though he tried to blink them away.

The demon’s body was lying on the ground. The figure, that was now standing above him strikingly resembled his brother. But it couldn't be Dean, he was in the chair, bled out to death, because of him. For all Sam knew, it could be Lucifer, playing another one of his tricks. But he decided to take that chance.

“Please,” he begged the figure. “Please, kill me. Just kill me. Please.”

-xXx- 

When Dean got struck in the back of his head, he fell on the ground, seeing starts, but he managed to roll over, and prepare to attack – a chunk of metal that loosened above him.

“Really?” he asked it, almost disappointed, that he didn't have to fight anything supernatural. Then he heard someone’s cry, further inside the building. It sounded too much like his brother. Dean quickly followed the voice.

He stopped just in time to hide behind a corner, because he’d seen a woman circle a chair, with a figure in it. His brother’s figure.

Dean’s heart started racing. The bitch was so going to die. But he found Sam. That was good.

He peaked in again, just to check that his brother was conscious. His head was moving, so that was a good sign. The demon was just whispering something into Sam’s ear, leaving her back completely unprotected. Dean just had to be perfectly quiet and a sense of satisfaction washed over him, when he stabbed her in the back and let her fall.

His heart almost stopped, when he looked at the state Sam was in. All tears and snot and he was looking at Dean, like he didn't even recognize him.

“Please,” he pleaded brokenly. “Please, kill me. Just kill me. Please.”

Dean was sure his heart stopped, this time. He kneeled down by his brother’s side and wiped away his tears. Then he cradled his head and forced Sam to look into his eyes.  
“Sam, it’s alright. I'm here. Come on, Sammy, don’t say things like that. Let’s get you home, what do you say?”

Sam’s eyes widened, when he started talking, but then he shook his head slightly. The chains keeping him in his chair must have been kept in place magically, because they almost fell off, as Dean touched them.

“Get up, kiddo,” he had to force Sam to stand up. It was getting scarier each second.

Sam let himself be led, but before they disappeared from the place completely, Sam took one last look at the two empty chairs. And then he broke down.

“Jesus, what did she do to you, Sammy?” Dean asked, as he tried to keep his crying and shaking brother upright and walking.

They left the building like that, Dean supporting Sam all the way. Sam was neither fighting, nor helping him. Once they were far enough, Dean called Cas.

Sam stared at the angel incredulously and stammered backwards from Dean.

“Cas?”

Dean realized it was the first word Sam said, since he asked him to kill him.

“Sam, are you alright?” Castiel cocked his head, narrowing his eyes.

“He’s obviously _not_ alright,” Dean answered for Sam. “Can you take us back, Cas?”

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” Sam’s head kept snapping back and forth between them.

Dean gaped at him. Did Sam not recognize him? What the hell did she do to him?

“Sammy,” he said slowly. “I'm Dean. Your brother. This is Cas. A demon kidnapped you. But we got you now. And we’re taking you home.”

He didn't wait to see what Sam had to say to that. He grabbed his hand and pulled him closer.

“Take us to Bobby’s, instead,” he nodded at Castiel, who teleported them, right where Dean wished.

When they appeared at Bobby’s place, the old man wasn't there. Dean sat his brother on a couch and went to call Bobby. Sam looked so confused and lost, as he kept looking around, as though he didn't know where he was, or how he got there.

Dean quickly explained his situation to Bobby, who bitched about them being at his place without an invitation, but let them stay anyway. He was away on a hunt, but he promised Dean, he would stop by the town they were in earlier, and pick up the Impala. It was hard to leave her there, but Sam needed an immediate help.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said softly, sitting next to him. “You know, where we are, right? Do you remember me, now?” he asked anxiously.

“We’re at Bobby’s, but how...” he trailed off, then he looked at Dean. “You can’t be Dean. Dean’s dead. I-I killed him,” he choked out and started crying again.  
Dean hugged him instinctively.

“No, I'm not dead. I'm here with you, Sammy. Everything’s okay now. I've got you, little brother,” he rubbed his back soothingly.

Sam raised his head.

“D-Dean? But...how?”

“That’s a demon’s thing,” Dean smiled at him, stroking his hair lovingly. “Do you want to tell me, what she did to you?”

“S-she...showed me the truth. It’s okay, Dean, I know,” Sam said, pushing Dean away. “But why would you save me?” he asked him earnestly, and Dean’s heart just about exploded in his chest. How could Sam even ask?

“It’s my job, right?” he tried to sound lightly, because otherwise he’d cry, and Sam needed him to be strong right now. “Gotta take care of you.”

Sam looked like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“J-job...yeah, it is, your job. Just a job, just a job,” he babbled and it wasn't making any sense to Dean.

He reached for his brother to calm him down, but Sam flinched away from him, as though just the mere touch burned, jumped off the couch and ran into one of the spare bedrooms in Bobby’s place. Dean tried to follow him, but the door was locked.

**3 days later:**

Dean leaned against the door of his brother’s bedroom. Sam was sitting on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chin, talking to someone, who wasn't there, and crying.

At first, he thought, that Sam needed space, time to get better on his own terms. He had to pick the lock on Sam’s bedroom in order to give him some food. And even then, he had to almost force it down his throat.

It was killing him, but he decided to wait the night, maybe Sam would come around in the morning.

Except Sam didn't.

Dean spent half the day trying to call Cas or reach his brother, but they weren't responding. Castiel was God knew where, and Sam didn't even look at him.

When Castiel finally showed, Dean begged him to find out, what was wrong with Sam. Castiel closed himself in the room with Sam for hours, but when he came out, he said he couldn't find any sign of a demon curse or spell on him, so that Sam must be fighting his own mind.

“Lucifer,” both Castiel and Dean said at the same time.

When Dean was feeding Sam dinner, he tried to explain to him, that whomever he was seeing or hearing wasn't real. Sam just pierced him with his hazel eyes full of heartbreak.

“Neither are you,” he muttered.

Dean had to bite hard on his bottom lip.

He spent the night wrecking his mind, trying to find a solution, or at least a temporary help for Sam. Sam had been coping. He’d been doing _fine_ . What changed? What did that demon skank to do this little brother?

His musing was interrupted, when Sam fell down from the bed on his knees and crawled forward, his eyes glued on the wardrobe in his bedroom.

“No, please no,” he sobbed. “No more, Dean, please, no more. Dean, no, I'm so sorry, so sorry, I didn't know, please no, no more, don’t, no!”

And then he just collapsed on the floor and cried so hard, it was making Dean’s eyes water, as well.

He decided that he’d had enough. Sam’d had enough. Something had to be done, and Dean had an idea. The last time, they were dealing with Lucifer, it was the scar on Sam’s palm that helped him. But that had long since healed.

Sam had been shouting or crying Dean’s name all night long, but Dean wasn't able to get through to him, to explain to him, that whatever he thought Dean was saying or doing to him, wasn't in fact happening. Sam didn't even acknowledge him, so he gave up.

But this time, he had a plan. And if that wouldn't work, then nothing would.

“Sammy?” he slowly pushed his brother’s body back into sitting position. “Sammy, it’s me, Dean. The _real_ Dean. I'm going to help you. But I'm going to need your cooperation,” he murmured as he nuzzled his brother’s face.

Sam just kept his eyes closed and kept on sobbing.

Dean kissed his lips softly.

“I need you to remember me, brother. I need you to remember how it feels, when I touch you like this,” he peppered gentle kisses down Sam’s throat. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “But I have to get you back.”

As he said that, he sank his teeth deep into his brother’s shoulder.

Sam gasped. It was the first sign of getting through to him in a long time.

Dean stopped pressing, but kept his teeth in place for a while longer. He felt terrible, but it had to be done.

Sam’s hands slowly rested on his shoulders, and that was, when he pulled away. He looked into the pools of hazel, that were his brothers eyes, searching for something, anything, that would give away, whether his brother recognized him.

The younger man’s gaze darted around the room once more, and then his face scrunched in confusion. Slowly, he blinked at his brother and Dean saw his eyes focus on his face.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, it’s me, little brother,” Dean sighed with relief.

“B-but-“

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything else you see, it’s all Lucifer. Remember the old trick with pain? It’s still working,” he smiled at Sam.

Sam’s eyes welled up with tears and he opened his mouth, but Dean pressed his thumb against his lips.

“No, Sam, don’t talk. Don’t talk yourself out of this. It’s real. I am real. Whenever you start doubting that, just ask me, and I’ll make you hurt, just a little,” he brushed the fingers on his other hand over the mark his teeth left on Sam’s shoulder. “And you’ll be sure once again.”

“Dean...” Sam breathed out.

“Yeah, Sammy, I'm here,” he stood up, helping Sam stand as well, as he walked them towards the bed. “Right here, not going anywhere.”

He lowered his brother on the mattress and crawled on the top of him.

“If you’re not sure, just ask,” he repeated, and then he pressed his lips against Sam’s.

They opened immediately. Dean thrust his tongue in, mapping out every inch of his brother’s mouth, as though he hadn't already have Sammy’s whole body memorized.

Slowly, he took off Sam’s t-shirt, and then his own shirt and let Sam’s hands roam over his back, as he lavished his nipples with his tongue.

He felt Sam’s body go rigid under him and he started panting.

“No,” he whispered frantically. “No, _Dean_ ,” he looked into his brother’s eyes.

Dean took the hint and bit his shoulders on the exact same spot again. He felt the hands of the other Winchester in his hair, slowly caressing his face, then neck, shoulders and chest; as if checking, if he was still here, still real. Dean let him.

Sam seemed to pay special attention to his left side, moving his hand up and down.

“Not hurt,” he whispered finally, looking up at Dean’s face. “Not dead. Real.”

“That’s right, Sammy,” Dean smiled and blinked furiously to chase away the tears he felt in his eyes. His brother was messed up pretty badly. He suddenly wasn't so sure, that his plan would work.

Sam pulled him down for a kiss, and Dean was pleasantly surprised, when he took the control. He felt his brother’s tongue in his mouth, chasing and playing with his own, then sucking it into his mouth and scraping it with his teeth, gently. Just the way Sam knew Dean loved it.

Sam’s hands were fumbling with the opening of Dean’s jeans. He managed to pull them halfway down, when he suddenly stopped and looked at Dean with frightened eyes.

“No, I can’t. Go away. You don’t have to. Please, just stop me. I'm too weak. Too weak,” he was almost crying again.

“There’s no stopping anyone,” Dean silenced him with a kiss. “Not tonight.”

When Sam started to cry again, he wasn't sure, if he made the right call.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Sam shook his head furiously, but if anything, the offer made him cry even harder.

Dean lay next to him, and pulled him close, holding him through the sobs.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he murmured into his ear. “No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Not when I'm around.”

Dean kicked off his pants and threaded his legs with Sam’s, reconciled with the idea, that they’d just sleep like this, even though the inhabitant of his boxers strongly disagreed. He wondered how sick that made him, considering the state Sam was in.

Sam’s head snapped towards the window, then the door, and he started shaking.

“Dean,” he tugged at him. “Hurt me, please.”

Dean obediently bit his shoulders once again. The mark was going to stay there for weeks, and it was already red and starting to bruise. He licked it in silent apology.

When Sam let out a content sigh and relaxed in his arms, he licked his way up his throat, and kissed him again. He got on the top of him, and rocked his hips against Sam’s gently.

“Focus on the way it feels, when we’re together. Focus on what’s real. Focus on me,” he whispered in his brother’s ear.

Sam slid his hands down Dean’s back and snuck his hands inside his boxers, then proceeded to pull them down. Dean helped him get rid of them and then did the same with Sam’s. Their naked bodies were grinding against each other and Sam threw his head back, letting out a soft moan.

“That’s right, let go, little brother,” Dean nibbled at his lips, before kissing them again.

Sam was getting bolder in touching and his breath and heartbeat were quickening for entirely different reasons, than a panic attack.

“Dean,” he moaned out, somewhat louder this time.

Dean put two of his fingers in Sam’s mouth.

“Shh, little brother. I'm going to take care of you,” Dean promised.

He chuckled a little, when Sam whimpered, as he took the fingers out of his mouth. He used the spit-slickness to circle Sam’s hole and pressed at it, to get it to open for him.

“Dean,” Sam said urgently. “I need it to hurt.”

Dean’s gut clenched. He really didn't want to do this. Not this.

“Sammy,-“

Sam shook his head. “Please. It has to hurt. I need this,” he pleaded.

Looking into the soft, sad hazel eyes, Dean lost the fight. He lined up, closed his eyes and pressed his cock inside Sam. He stopped midway, when he heard Sam’s pained cry. He could almost feel the physical hurt himself.

“More,” Sam ordered through gritted teeth.

Unwillingly, Dean pressed himself all the way in. Two tears escaped through Sam’s tightly shut eyelids and Dean quickly brushed them away.

“You okay, brother?” he asked, worried that it might have been too much.

Sam opened his eyes and smiled at Dean.

“Yeah. Perfect. You’re perfect. I love you,” and he pulled him down for a long-lasting kiss, before Dean had the chance to answer.

Dean started to move, slowly, inside and out, caressing the inside of Sam with his cock, as if trying to make up for the way he got in. Sam was writhing under him, moaning and panting for breath. With every push, that brushed Sam’s prostate, he let out a strangled cry that went directly into Dean’s dick. Dean threaded their fingers together, and lowered his head to capture Sam’s mouth with his. The wet heat surrounding his cock and his mouth was perfect. Dean didn't even know how badly he’d missed it.

Sam’s cock started leaking and Dean took it in his hand to help him to completion. Sam came all over his stomach and chest, screaming Dean’s name on the top of his lungs. With the way Sam clenched around him, he didn't even need to speed up his thrusts too much, before he reached the orgasm himself. But what really brought him over the edge, was the look full of love and affection that Sam gave him, as he started coming back from his post-orgasmic haze. He ran his hands down Dean’s arms and gave him this soft smile, that had Dean coming so hard, that he saw white. When he regained conscience again, he saw himself collapsed on Sam.

He gently pulled out and rolled on his side, locking his arms around Sam, hoping to bring him some peace tonight.

“You’re such a good person, Dean,” Sam said, looking up at him, as he caressed his brother’s cheek. “You’re always taking care of me. Always saving me. No matter what. I'm really sorry.”

And with that, he closed his eyes, snuggled closer and fell asleep. He must have been exhausted, so Dean decided to let him be for tonight, but he really had to figure out, what could it be, that the demon had told Sam, if it convinced him that Dean was somehow mad at him. He kept apologizing, he kept begging FakeDean to stop something and half the things he said, didn't make sense to Dean.

Sam was his everything. He thought he’d made that clear during the years, when he’d died for him, went to Hell for him and even stopped hunting, because Sam asked him to. He had to remind his brother once again, and help him beat the monster living in his head.

-xXx- 

Sam woke up from a dreamless sleep. He felt as relaxed as he hadn't in a long time, even though his body was a bit sore. He blinked groggily and was surprised to find himself looking into his brother’s sleeping face. Sam snuggled a bit closer and smiled. Dean was here. He was safe.

“Of course, he’s here,” he heard Dean’s voice.

His eyes snapped open and he turned around. There stood Dean. It was the one, who died in the chair. He was the worst.

“He had a job to do. He came here and offered himself to you, and you took it.”

Sam started shivering.

“That’s what you do, Sammy, isn't it?” Dean hissed hatefully. “You keep taking, taking, taking. Until there’s _nothing_ left,” he opened his shirt, so Sam could see the hole in his brother’s body, that cost him his life.

“No,” Sam cried out, but he knew that this Dean was right. He only took from his brother, and last night, he was too weak to let Dean go. He needed him, so he took, what he needed.

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder, that made him hiss and shut his eyes, and when he re-opened them, the Dean with blood all over himself was gone. Sam dared to turn around, and found himself in the arms of another Dean. Of the real one.

“Sammy, there’s no one here,” Dean murmured into his ear. “It’s just you and me. You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

Sam wanted to let Dean’s voice calm him down. He wanted his touches to soothe his fears. But he couldn't do that to Dean any longer. He had to be strong.

“You can’t do this,” he pushed his brother away, even though it was breaking his heart all over again. “You have to go. Leave me. It’s okay; I know everything. And I understand. It’s okay, go,” he begged him, because he wasn't sure, how long he could keep this up.

“You know _what_ everything?” Dean asked, obviously not going away. “Sam, I need you to tell me, what that demon told you, so we can work this out, okay? And stop it; I'm not leaving you. You should already know that.”

Sam stopped fighting Dean, and pressed his face into his pillow. Between sobs, he told Dean everything about the memories, that she’d shown him. About all the times, Sam directly or indirectly hurt Dean, that ended with Dean shouting his hatred for Sam towards the sky. How Sam only ever took from Dean, and how Dean resented him for it.

“Oh god,” Dean breathed out, when Sam finished. “Hey, none of that is true, okay? _Nothing_ ,” he pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “She changed the memories, it’s not exactly how they happened. I never said I hated you, never felt it, either. I love you, little brother, I thought you knew that.”

Sam just shook his head. It was exactly what he’d been longing to hear, but he was sure, that Dean was just saying this to make him feel better. Because it was his _job_ to make him feel better.

“Gimme a moment, will you?” Dean said, untangled himself from Sam, and walked out of the bedroom. Sam only heard him shout ‘Cas!’ and then it was quiet.

“This is it,” a young, teenage version of Dean said. He had a bloody nose, because he’d just fought a group of bullies, that were threatening Sam. Or at least in the memory Sam knew him from, he did. “He’s finally leaving you, because he doesn't have a reason to pretend anymore.”

Sam covered his ears and tried hard not to listen, but it was in his head. This Dean was just voicing, what his brain had already figured out.

He felt a finger on his shoulders, then the sharp pain again, and then the teenage Dean was gone. The only Dean in the room was the real one again, pressing his fingers against the angry mark on Sam’s shoulder and biting his lower lip.

“I really hate to hurt you, Sam,” he sighed sadly.

That was, when Sam noticed Castiel behind Dean’s back.

“Dean?” he looked at him questioningly.

“Sammy, I've got a plan. Cas said he could get you into my head for a little while, to show you one of my memories. The rest would be too dangerous, and tiring for all three of us, but choose one of the memories you think that happened, and I’ll show you, how it happened for real.”

Sam gaped at him, before he fully understood, what his brother was saying.

“Y-you would?” Then he looked over Dean’s shoulders at Castiel. “Not a trick? If she could trick me, so can you,” he asked the angel.

“I assure you, the memory you will witness, will be absolutely genuine,” Castiel replied.

Sam thought about it for a moment. “What happened after the Shtriga. When dad chased it off. I want to see that one.”

It was the earliest, he’d seen. If Dean could prove him, that it wasn't real, that he didn't hate him back then, then maybe, Sam could believe the rest was a lie, too.

“Okay, then,” Dean nodded.

He crawled back on the bed, lay down and pulled Sam close, so that their foreheads were touching.

“Okay, Dean, focus on the memory,” Castiel said and then the world went black.

_Sam was hoping to somehow feel Dean’s presence, when he appeared in the too-well known motel room. But he was alone. He’d seen John, little Sammy and Dean, and everything was happening exactly the same, as Sam had witnessed it so many times before._

_Dean was just sliding down the wall, and Sam was bracing himself for the outburst, that he knew was coming._

_But something changed. Dean didn't throw his phone away; he placed it carefully on the table and went into their kitchenette. He opened the fridge, pulled out butter, ham and some cheese and started making sandwiches._

_Then, suddenly, the door burst open and John walked in, carrying Sam again. He walked past Dean into the bedroom. Dean stood frozen in place; following him with his eyes. His lower lip was trembling, again._

_“Dean?” John suddenly ran from the bedroom, looking for his elder son. When he’d finally spotted him, relief was written all over his face. “There you are,” he said. There was no trace of the previous anger._

_“S-sandwich?” Dean stuttered, and offered their dad a plate, that was shaking. Dean’s hand was shaking._

_“You made dinner,” John blinked. “I got your message,” he said, taking a few steps towards Dean._

_Dean looked away and laughed nervously._

_“Y-yeah, sorry about that, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I won’t-“_

_John silenced him by raising his hand._

_“Come here,” he said and crouched, so that he was at his son’s eye level. “It’s me, who’s sorry, okay? I shouldn't have yelled at you. You’re just eight, but you’re just as capable and responsible as me. Even more. And sometimes I forget you’re just a kid and expect you to be an adult. And for that, I'm sorry.”_

_“B-but, Sammy,” Dean lost the fight against his tears. “He’s going to hate me now,” he whispered._

_John reached out his arm and pulled Dean into a hug._

_“Nobody’s going to hate you. The first thing Sam asked, when he woke up, was where you were. He made me turn on my phone, just so he could hear your voice. That’s why I listened to that message. And when I heard it, I realized, what a bastard I was._

_“And the monster?” Dean asked._

_“Got away. But we’ll catch it,” he let go of Dean, who wiped his face quickly._

_“Okay,” John got up. “Time to get to bed,” he pushed Dean towards his and Sam’s bedroom. “Oh, and Dean?” He waited for him to turn around. “Never disobey a direct order again, understood?”_

_“Yes, sir,” Dean said automatically, and went into the bedroom._

_“Dee?” Sam murmured sleepily, when Dean got into the bed beside him._

_“Shh, Sammy, I'm here. Go back to sleep,” Dean caressed Sam’s hair gently._

_“Couldn't sleep, when you weren't there,” Sam mumbled, snuggled closer to his brother and fell asleep._

_Dean gently kissed his little brother’s forehead. “Sleep well, Sammy. I love you.”_

_And then, the world went black one more time._

Sam felt tears in his eyes and he gazed into the green depth of Dean’s.

“Was that-was that the truth?” he asked softly, almost afraid to hear the truth.

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean kissed his forehead, just like in the memory. “I've always loved you,” he whispered in Sam’s hair, when he pressed himself against Dean and held on tightly.

Castiel wasn't anywhere in sight, and Dean kept talking, explaining what _really_ happened in the memories, Sam saw, and Sam felt that everything was going to be okay.

After what felt like hours, Sam found himself half-asleep. He was really exhausted from all the crying and fighting what he thought he knew, with the ammunition Dean was giving him. He fell asleep, eventually.

But not for long. He heard a voice and when he sat up, there was Dean, in boxers, talking to him.

“Hey, Sammy, how are you feeling?”

“Weird,” Sam said honestly.

“Yeah, I bet,” Dean chuckled. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, when the door opened. And Dean walked in.

“Hey, how’re you feeling, little brother?”

Sam’s head kept snapping between the Dean in boxers and the Dean by the door.

“Sam?” said the Dean in boxers and took a step toward him. “Sam, there’s no one there,” he nodded in the direction Sam was looking. “It’s not real, whatever you’re seeing.”

“Sam?” said the Dean by the door and took a step toward him. “Sam, there’s no one there,” he nodded in the direction Sam was looking earlier. “It’s not real, whatever you’re seeing.”

Sam scooted on his bed as far from both Deans as possible. He had to put an end to this. Dean didn't hate him, everything the demon, and then Lucifer had been showing him was a lie and he would put up his walls again.

“Don’t come near me,” he shouted at them both, but they just kept coming closer.

Sam frantically searched the bed, then his clothes, but all he could find, was a small pocket knife. Well, it would have to do.

The Dean in boxers was faster. Lucifer had gotten so good in the hallucinations, that Sam was able to touch them now, and not know the difference. So he grabbed Dean by his arm, pulled him down and stabbed him into the chest.

There was a part of his brain, that was screaming, because illusion or not, it was still his brother he was killing here. But the hammering of his heart calmed down a little, when the Dean just disappeared.

“Whoa, Sammy,” said the other Dean, who was by the bed, now. “What the hell was that?”

Instead of an answer, Sam stood up and launched himself at Dean. He threw him down at the bed, and only kept him pinned down thanks to his extra body weight. Dean was putting up a hell of a fight and Sam had to get this over with quickly.

“Sam, don’t do this,” Dean begged, when Sam raised his arm with the knife. “It’s me, Dean. Your brother,” his eyes were full of tears.

“If you were real,” Sam spat out. “You’d know better than to try to talk me into believing you.”

He himself didn't use the pain trick, because he wanted to get rid of Lucifer. He smashed the knife right into Dean’s heart.

“S-Sammy...why...” were his last words.

The light in green eyes went out and a blood trickled out of his mouth. Sam’s hands were covered in red, warm liquid.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no, you’re fake. You’re not real,” he said, trying to convince himself, that it was the truth.

Dean wasn't disappearing, though. He kept looking at Sam with empty eyes, blood covering the sheets on Sam’s bad.

“NO!” Sam yelled.

-xXx- 

When Sam had fallen asleep, Dean left his bedroom, letting his brother get some rest. It must have been exhausting, but he was happy, that he was finally getting through to him.

He was just deciding, what should he cook for dinner, when he’d heard Sam’s scream. He rushed to his bedroom as fast as he could.

Sam was crumpled over a warm-up bottle, that Dean put inside his bed, to keep him warm. There was a pocket knife sticking out of it, and the warm water was all over Sam’s bed. Above it, Sam was crying.

“Sammy? What happened?”

“He’s dead!” Sam shouted. “I killed him!”

Dean quickly ran towards him and pressed hard against the bruise on his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me. No one’s dead.”

Sam looked up at him, as though he’d seen him for the first time in his life.

“B-but-“

“Well, you _did_ kill poor bottle here, what did it do to you?” Dean smiled.

Sam looked at the bottle, then at his hands, then back at Dean. Then he started to laugh.

At first, Dean laughed with him, but when Sam wasn't stopping, he became a little worried.

“Hey, calm down, Sasquatch,” he said, gripping his face.

Sam’s lips smashed into his with such force, that they both fell down off the bed. Dean knocked his head pretty hard.

“Oh, god, I'm sorry. Are you okay?” Sam looked at him with concern. He fell on the top of Dean, so he was fine.

“I'm gonna live,” Dean chuckled. “What was that for?”

“He’s gone,” Sam grinned. “Lucifer, the hallucinations, it’s all gone.”

“That’s awesome,” Dean exclaimed. “But, uh,” he gestured at himself. “Would you mind?”

Sam cocked his eyebrow.

“Really?” he snorted. “I'm finally feeling okay, it’s just us, in the whole house and you ask me to get _off_ you?”

Dean grinned mischievously.

“Well, now that you've said it...” he trailed off and pulled his brother down for a kiss.

Sam quickly threw away his shirt and they were making out heavily, just in their boxers.

“Where’s Bobby, anyway?” Sam asked suddenly, when Dean flipped them over.

“Really?” Dean stopped paying attention to Sam’s nipple and looked up at him with disbelief. “You’re thinking about Bobby _now_? I must be doing something wrong, then.”

Sam chuckled.

“Maybe,” he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his brother’s boxers. “We have too many clothes on.”

Dean lifted up and moved upwards to help Sam get his boxers off. He wanted to scoot back down, but was stopped by the grip his brother had on his hips. He looked down to see what the problem was and had to swallow hard, when Sam used exactly that moment to take his cock in his mouth.

“Jesus, fuck, Sammy,” he muttered. “Give a guy a warning.”

Sam just looked up at him innocently, and Dean had to fist the carped, until his knuckles were white, to prevent himself from coming right then.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sammy,” he managed to say, when he wasn't moaning. The things Sam could do with his tongue on his cock were driving him crazy. “I love you, _God_ , and not just because you’re such a great cocksucker. But right now, I have to admit, it might be a huge part of it.”

Sam chuckled around his cock and the vibration sent Dean over the edge, and he was spilling down Sam’s throat. He wanted to watch his brother swallow him down, but his body was shaking so violently, that he collapsed. He felt Sam’s hands lifting his hips up and moving away, before letting him back down, gently.

“That hard, huh,” he said with amusement.

Dean gathered himself together and moved to lay beside Sam. He ran his hand down Sam’s chest and stomach.

“Your turn,” he said huskily, and he wanted to slip his hand inside Sam’s boxers, but Sam stopped him.

“I, uh,” stuttered. His face was crimson red. “I kinda already...”

Dean outright laughed.

“Wow, you’re that easy, huh?”

Sam looked away sheepishly.

“Hey,” Dean gripped his chin to turn his face back and smiled at him. “I like that.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” Sam muttered, before he kissed him.

They kissed like that for a long while, but then Dean flipped himself over Sam again, and kissed his way down Sam’s stomach. He was feeling more than ready for a round two and if he was reading the hardness, that was poking his thigh right, so was Sam.

He peeled Sam’s boxers off and cleaned his cock off the dry come.

“Gnnnh,” Sam made a sound, when Dean let his cock out of his mouth with a wet pop.

Dean continued his journey with licking and kissing Sam’s balls, then he hooked his legs over his shoulders and licked the inviting ring of flesh.

“Dean!” Sam arched off the floor, when Dean’s tongue made contact with his twitching hole.

“Shh, little brother,” Dean said and quickly grabbed first bottle of something liquid. It was some kind of Vaseline and he couldn't be bothered to remember, how did it appear in the nightstand.

He quickly lubed his fingers and Sam’s hole, and pushed in. One finger, but Sam screamed for more, so he added two. He brushed against Sam’s prostate and the other Winchester almost went crazy.

Dean teased him like this for a while, slowly stroking Sam’s flush and leaking cock and occasionally brushing against his prostate.

“Stop it, or I swear, I will hit you over your head with something heavy,” Sam cursed.

“Say please,” Dean grinned.

Sam closed his eyes and huffed. Dean knew he didn't like begging, he was always so embarrassed. But it was Dean’s twisted way of making sure Sam wanted this, accompanied by the waves of lust that washed over him, when he heard the pleads.

“Please,” Sam gritted out. “Kindly put your cock in my ass, and fuck me silly, or I swear, I'm walking away and we’re not having sex for a month!”

Dean laughed, but lined himself up anyway.

“You wouldn't last a _week_ ,” he mocked, as he pushed in.

Any protest Sam might have had died on his tongue and he gasped.

“Here,” he reached his arms out. “Come here.”

Dean did as asked, and Sam pulled him down for a deep, messy kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered into Dean’s mouth, when they pulled away for a breath.

“I love you, too,” Dean said and started moving inside Sam.

At first it was slow, but they picked up the pace quickly, Dean slamming into his brother, who was meeting his thrusts. Dean was so deep, that he didn't know where he ended and his brother began. And that was how it was supposed to be.

When Sam tried to use his hands on himself, he batted them away and stroked Sam in the rhythm of his thrusts. Sam cried out and hot white come was spurting out of him. Dean followed him just a few seconds later.

He collapsed next to Sam, both of them panting heavily.

“Wow,” Sam said.

“Wow,” Dean agreed.

“I thought you’d be too old for two rounds in a row by now,” Sam teased.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re over,” Dean stuck his tongue out. “I'm not gonna be insulted by someone, whose brains I’d just fucked out.

Sam laughed and put his arm over his eyes. The other hand, closer to Dean, tentatively found his own and twined their fingers together. Dean wanted to make some chick-flick moment joke, but decided against it. He squeezed Sam’s hand instead.

“We’ll never be over,” Sam stated with a smile.

“No, Sam. Never.”


End file.
